Umbrella

The umbrella may be one of the greatest discoveries made my humans or any other sort of cnidarian. How it works is that when one pulls a string, the umbrella in question will either make a very high noise, or else maybe turn a certain shade of blue. Many works of literature have been made about umbrellas, but the best ones are by umbrellas. Here is an excerpt from one of these umbrellographies.

"The and it, and that was it, but what was it? We did not know, but the and it was surely it and it was. As it was it and that the and it was it, the and it's it saw that surely the it was and, and that therefore, the and was it."

Of all the days to forget my umbrella!

You snooze, you lose. Biblical allusions, hey! Why though? First you were Noah and then you were David. Is that just because you have glasses?

Trying to make it rain on down never got me anywhere. It only led me to the south, at the county fair, where things aren't... fair. But I later asked the penguins, and thankfully they knew just what to do, but the beat was taking over and now I've lost my eyes. Can anyone find a medic in the Antarctic? I'm at least covered for nourishment, because I can cook with soul, make a jam roll, and get it all on the floor. See, this part of the world is the kind of place where you don't get to relax. Instead it's better just to listen out for those silly little somethings that go bump in the night, or try and catch those tricky little fishes. Monsters of the deep. They're gonna get you wherever you go unless you've got tickle-protective armour on you. Or an umbrella, for that matter. Got 'em imported from Umbrellistan with a side of firmly washed bean sprouts.